The Young Meadow and a Little Singing Jay
by marthasville
Summary: Promising possibilities await the people of the new Panem. Katniss recalls memories after the birth of her son to give him a meaningful name, trying to pinpoint what caused her to go back on her word to not have children, to ponder a proposal, losing Peeta again, confronting the terrors plaguing the surviving victors, and renewing her one true love
1. Pangs

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and do not wish to make any sort of profit from this story. I only wish that it is enjoyed by other fans of the book who seek plausible outcomes for the post story closure to Peeta and Katniss' relationship.

This story is basically about another take of how things fared in the new Panem, affecting all the major characters. Life is still moving on with the expected possibilities that awaits each character. I will be deeply exploring the reasons why Kantiss does not want to have children and how it is resolved in the next chapters. I also have grown attached to the other tributes the way Suzanne Collins wanted us to so I am including them in the story too. There will be many twists and turns as I can only say I will attempt to experiment imitating the absolutely riveting writing style that Mrs. Collins used to keep us captivated. Enjoy and please review even if you didn't like it. I have never been afraid to make major revisions to please my readers.

1 PANGS

_Pain! _

There is no way to describe this pain!

I've only felt it once before, and conjuring up the memory had exponentially multiplied my chronically overwrought anxiety just before the pain became constant.

Yet the first time, I thought I wouldn't survive it all….but I did.

I was able to present a new life out of the longstanding pangs I thought would never be expelled from deep inside me. It took the same amount of time I spent my youth, cultivating this fear, to unearth it and weed it out a good portion of my young adult years. Although the Hunger Games, having been abolished for fifteen years, had something to do with it.

"_Hey there. Yes, you."_

I awaken to a blinding light where the sound of a voice seemed to come from its direction. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust as it sought shelter from the morning rays within the towering silhouette of the figure standing before the hospital window. This voice I couldn't recognize, only until continuing to eavesdrop, did I detect the first private conversation between father and son.

"_I've waited a long time for you. Yes I have. I've waited for many things, but you are the one I wanted the most. That's our little secret, but I think your Mom knows too, because she surprised me one day, and told me to be expecting you, and here you are." _

As still as I try to remain he turns to face me. My heart skips a beat. I see the look on his face, which I've seen only two other moments. The last time he beamed with pride was very much like this moment, but the memory that strikes me more was the first time, in District 4 more than fifteen years ago.

Before we were able to grow together, completely, we had to place ourselves again, against other victors of the Hunger Games. In what we hoped would be a final attempt to defeat the last enemies. The ones still lurking behind the deep recesses of our minds, assaulting our thoughts and hearts just when we thought the new order in Panem had freed us from the terrors and tortures of the arena. The few of us that remained needed this. If it had not been for Gale we wouldn't have this moment today welcoming our newborn son.

_Please review. Next chapter. Katniss meets up with someone from her past who offers her a life-changing proposal._


	2. Beg Your Pardon

2 BEG YOUR PARDON

He returned to District 12 for the first time in a year after my trial. He had something to ask me. I was in the woods hunting and as I was returning, reaching the rock that was our former spot—he was there, standing the way he always stood. I didn't know whether to hug him, kiss him, punch him or keep a safe distance, but I chose the last option. I figured if he came all this way to catch me in action then that's what he'll see. "Gale," I say as I plop down to start skinning the catch in my bag.

"What brings you to these neck of the woods?"

This is truly an awkward moment that I try to make light seeing how I must've interrupted his thoughts. I begin a mental debate of who actually is the intruder here, starting to feel territorial. He continues to stare forward towards the meadow.

"Things haven't changed here," he says quietly.

He almost sounded disappointed. He must have not been referring to the massive rebuilding going on in town, the Seam and where the Hob and houses stood.

I say, "That's one thing good about these woods. " I get the feeling he's referring to me, comparing my worn out hunting clothes to his new-smelling pair of pants and whiter than white shirt. Now I'm about to take that mental debate and give him a piece of my mind, right after I skin this one last squirrel. He watches me and I return a glare at him, and he knows I'm about ready to defend these woods when I stand. He doesn't hesitate to say,

"People in the Capitol are craving your appearance but that can't be possible because you're confined to District 12. They want to give you a full pardon, Katniss.."

"Is that what you came all the way here to tell me?" I ask. Not even a phone call this past year, not even a greeting or concerns about how things are now going with me. I'd like to talk about that. About how happy I am now, and how angry I can still get. "Why hasn't anyone from the Capitol called or said anything?"

"They were considering waiting until the next term of the new President." he says.

"When is that?" I ask. "They are already not pleased with President Paylor?"

"They are, but they are trying this new thing, to really balance out the power of the President," he explains. In three years." He looks at me and waits for me to figure it out.

"They want you to be the next President." I say about to laugh but his serious expression turns my suppressed smile into a grimace.

"Not any time soon, but they want me in a position to get me there someday. You'd find it a little funnier knowing how much money they've put into this idea already."

I stop grimacing and allow myself to laugh. I find it more hysterically ironic than funny that the subject Gale entertained in these very woods were loads and loads of criticism about the abominable performance of the Capitol, and now he wants to take a crack at it. He remains silent waiting for me to end my laughing jag.

"I'm sorry. I haven't had a good laugh in a long time." I sigh and calmly ask, "So, you're going to ask me if it's okay if I can wait three years before you pardon me of my crime? When the next president wins?"

"Your thinking is still as sharp as your hunting skills. But Katniss, you don't have to wait three years." I furrow my brows suspecting these same people who have heavily invested in Gale are securing things to solidify their big plans. But for me, I feel a familiar feeling of being in the Hob again, a feeling, that a black-market bargain is about to be presented by my former trading partner.

"I have great ideas for a new Panem, there are good men in power now and they're listening, but I need someone with me who can get the people to want to make these ideas-"

When I think of goodness, charisma and persuasion, I automatically think of Peeta and I blurt out, "Peeta won't get involved with the goings on in the Capitol, and I will not be the one to convince him."

"It isn't him I want to convince," Gale responds.

This is the first time he makes contact with me, his hands cupping both my shoulders, letting them slide down the side of my arms as he admits why he really is here.

"We've had our share of differences about the war, but it's over now. We are at a time of that peace you and I both dreamed about. Katniss, I'm about to take big steps in my life and for the nation. There is no one else who I'd want with me. Who knows how to watch my back better than anyone could. "

He put his hands down, knowing he hasn't convinced me one bit. "You don't have to decide now."

"There is no decision to make…"

He cuts me off and readies himself to walk away saying, "I'll get you that pardon. I'll do what it takes." He jumps off the rock and just like old times, he's gone without a sound.

_Please review. Let me know what you think. Next chapter, goes back to the present in the hospital scene. _


	3. Nice and Easy

3 Nice and Easy

"He has your eyes," he says as he cradles him while pacing around the room. "He has my hair, my nose, my chin. Yup, he's mine alright."

He acknowledges that I'm listening, and I can't help but feel that he finds this an incredible moment, trying to reassure himself that this has finally happened, one of his dreams finally coming true in our lives together. The baby starts to become fussy in his arms and he knows better that it's time he return him to me. I take the little bundle and he instinctively begins feeding, as his father joins me on the bed. He hasn't slept all night long, and as soon as he gets comfortable, he tells me,

"I don't want to go to sleep. I can't take my eyes off him."

"What are you going to name him?" I ask.

He didn't want to think of a name until he came out. The way he helped find the right name for our daughter, he wanted to do exactly the same thing for our son. It was remarkable how we both came up with our first child's name. It indeed helped me to erase some of the fears I had of motherhood. All I have to do is say her name, and I'm reminded of the time I learned how to survive, and the person who lead me there.

"Let's give it a couple more days, I'm sure it'll come to both of us. I want it to sound strong, not like my name," he says and we both chuckle. I'm sore all over. I'm sure he is too, having to stand beside me for several hours.

I kiss the wavy hair against his forehead and say, "Thanks for doing a great job all these months, and hanging in there with me."

"Always," he says rubbing his son's pudgy arm, "Always, always…..." yawning and trailing off into sleep against the cushiony-soft, propped up pillows.

There is something about nursing a child that forges such an immense surge of sensations throughout my body, and its overpowering effect often stirs a potent mixture of emotions within my chest. If I am not careful, I can let the bad surface to the fore of my thoughts, and then I begin to fear the future. That happened with my daughter, and it was difficult to put myself back together. She felt it, and would flail around while she suckled on my breast. It was unpleasant for both of us.

But once we found her name, all I had to do was say it over and over again, and the good thoughts would break through like the sun rising over the clouds of my dark past, and I'd remember all the happy moments I had in my life. That's why I am willing to wait and search deep in my thoughts for meaning that will help me name our son. We made a promise not to name our children after loved ones who passed on. A name shouldn't hold a person to perpetuate the memorializing of the no longer living, but for our sake, my sake, my history, my losses, he insists that we choose one that gives us hope, that reminds us to not only live, but to enjoy every single second of what life has given us.

So my thoughts take me back more than 18 years ago to the woods, after my meeting with Gale.

_I mull over his return to District 12. I found myself taken aback by the emotions stirring inside me. Surprisingly, I felt guilty, angry, happy, and confused all at once. Guilty, that I am contemplating not mentioning our exchange to Peeta, angry that he decided to meet me out there instead of at my house where it would be less indiscreet so that I wouldn't have to feel this guilty as if I've done something scandalous. Happy, that I might get a pardon, and confused because I had no plans to travel or felt constricted of being confined to 12. I never once entertained the thought of needing a pardon. _

_Just the thought of Gale and I together would undoubtedly set Peeta back in some way and threaten the radical therapy we had assigned ourselves to, since our relationship had taken a slight intimate course. _

_I take my time walking back to think of how it started between Peeta and I, to relish all the wonderful sensations that I can conjure before I return to admit everything to him. I know, I'll never be able to hide my guilt from him, and he will be upset, and I have to see we get through this, just as he patiently sees me through a new nightmare and those difficult mornings of unrelenting crying. _

_This is the opposite of a nightmare when I would wake up from a dream crying, having no memory of the source of my sorrow, but feeling an immense emptiness that a flood of tears must eventually fill. Only then do I stop, can I stop, when he's there, catching every drop, absorbing the senseless pain I feel, holding me together so that I don't fall apart. Then it's my turn when he has a flashback. They've returned more frequently as we decided to take our relationship to another level. It may return today so I brace myself with good thoughts._

_It started with the book. At first, sitting close to him as he drew and painted was an excuse to make physical contact with him. I longed for his warmth, but I could tell he wasn't trusting his emotions and my intentions. I had to keep it friendly. _

_Several times, I would place my hand, then my cheek on his shoulder, to seem that I wanted the closest view. To appear determined to make sure he did the drawings right, I'd ask questions. _

"_Hmm, let me take a closer look." I'd trace the drawing with my fingers, long enough to get a good feel of his warm, muscular shoulders underneath my other hand. "It's right." I say and give his shoulder a light squeeze. _

_Once he called me over asking, "What do you think?" _

_I immediately did my shoulder-cheek thing and this time reached my other arm across to his other shoulder. I wasn't sure whether he froze, detecting that I was trying to steady him so I could really study the painting, or because I was invading his personal space. He hurriedly left my house as soon as I said'_

" _It was perfect."_

_Later that evening, I knocked on his door, but got no answer. The lights were on, but no one was stirring in the house. _

_So I call for him, "Peeta?" trying to sound playful even though I'm sure something's wrong because this is the first time we haven't eaten dinner together in weeks. Greasy Sae has been off duty ever since Peeta took over my kitchen. _

_Haymitch yells from across the yard, "Went into town, Sweetheart!"_

_I didn't want to seem anxious so I decided to walk over and have a brief conversation with Haymitch. "You should see the book. Peeta's doing a great job with the drawings." I say._

_Haymitch fills a glass with wine, sniffs it, swirls it around and says, "What are the newest additions?"_

"_You, and your geese. Just the other day, we got the idea when we saw a goose snatch your sandwich while you napped here on the porch." We both eye the plate where nothing but crumbs remain, and a muddy webbed-foot print. _

"_No matter, they'll end up on the plate one way or the other," he says before taking a noisy sip of his wine. "Do me a favor, will you? Since you're heading into town. Can you pick me up another bottle of this delicious tasting wine?" _

_He hands me some money, and walks me down the porch. "Nice and easy, sweetheart."_

"_I'm not the one whose drunk, Haymitch," I say as he keeps one hand grasped on mine, walking down the short steps. Then he lays it on me._

"_I'm talking about you and loverboy. This is the real thing now, Katniss, not some budding romance charged up to increase sponsorship. So take it, nice and easy. It'll get there. In the meantime, keep the affection light and fun. After all, you're still young." He says all that while adeptly swaying his wine glass to the tune of his advice with his free hand._

_Before he lets go of my hand, he admonishes me, "The venom knows when to attack. It's attacking his fear of letting go of his doubts about how he had loved you."_

"_Is that why he left all of a sudden? He usually lets me help him with the flashbacks," I regretfully admit._

"_He's got to get over the venom making him distrust you. Your touch sets him off. It's like he's blindsided, and then it's triggered."_

"_He told you this?" I ask and Haymitch makes a vague explanation that Peeta walked straight over to his house, doubling over as soon as he opened the door, grabbing the edge of a couch. He figured out what transpired as Peeta recounted the innocent scene through clenched teeth._

_Our Hunger Games mentor could be given a trademark knack for having this ability to make romantic gestures a tactical maneuver. _

"_The boy puts an unusual heavy weight on this emotion because the Capitol made you both feel this way, to die for love. You've got to reverse that."_

"_How?" I ask feeling like an eager student for the first time, constantly amazed with the wisdom of our habitually semiconscious mentor. _

"_Don't make a move on him without letting him know." I blush even as Haymitch attempts to say this as flatly as he can. _

_Keep it…." We both say it, "Nice and easy."_

_To be continued…._


	4. Night Life

_Before you begin reading I'd like you all to know that I am grateful you are still reading my story. Thank you! I also want to give you a brief explanation of what I'm attempting to do. I want to see the two teenagers finally be able to act, to live and love like their age. Yes, light and fluffy, but with good heaps of drama for flavor. Let me know what you think of this chapter. Enjoy….. _

4 Night Life

As I made my way towards town, I found myself becoming apprehensive to the idea of taking it _nice and easy_ as Haymitch emphatically phrased it. I decided I will not even make a move. If Peeta loves me then it should be him to make the first move. Look at me, I sound like a silly school girl. Just then, Haymitch's words ring true. I am still young. I have every right to be silly. Okay maybe not, since those type of girls drove me to distraction. I will play it cool, like I always have.

Just as those thoughts are running through my head, I hear music and a crowd of people gathered in the middle of the square. No, I won't play it cool, I decided, I'm going to make new friends, to find other interesting people. I'm sure District 12 has many colorful characters to discover now that I can afford to be distracted, rather than being strictly focused on hunting to feed my family.

"Katniss! So nice to see you out and about!"

I turn around and I am thrilled that it is Delly, who comes up to meet me. We were never friends, but I am already indebted to her for standing up for me to a deranged Peeta back in 13. Before I know it, we embrace each other. As we pull away, I catch this look in her eyes that promises everything will be okay. This is a look, I've seen from some of the victors before the Quarter Quell and who became our allies in the arena. Delly went through a battle of sorts for me to bring Peeta back, the old Peeta, my Peeta. There I go again, playing silly, not cool.

"I just came to get Haymitch something…." I start to say, but she's got me by my elbows and leading me towards a crowd. A bunch, who were bouncing to the music immediately freeze, except for their widening eyes as we approach them.

"Hey everyone. It's Katniss!" Delly announces, and they all simultaneously pick their kegs up and make some sort of noise like a loud incoherent bar greeting.

Someone hands me a cup of what they're drinking. I take a sip and it reminds me of a distinct scent that usually emanates from Haymitch's vomit, but I want to make friends so I keep holding on to the cup to give my hands and mouth something to do when there is a lull in the conversation. Since I managed to make more lulls, I successfully gave myself something known as a buzz. I could tell as I felt a low humming sound around my ears before it went numb.

"What is the occasion?" I ask Delly.

She is taken aback, and stifles a laugh as she answers, "The end of the workday week? We've been celebrating this occasion since the rebuilding of the town. "

I've been back for a year, and I realized this is the first time I've ventured farther than Victor's Village at night. I've kept Peeta cooped up with me, and its no wonder he's going crazy.

I've seen people quickly becoming engrossed in their conversations, they have to pull to the side, but with us it's an assembly line of people coming towards us, shaking our hands, kissing our cheeks and moving on. I was sure Delly made me approachable. Some thanked me for being the Mockingjay, but some just thanked me, and went on their merry way engaging in longer conversations with others. They're still intimidated I assume, but I promise to take care of that, by hanging out here more often. I want them to see I'm normal. I actually want to feel more than normal. I want to feel ordinary, since ordinary people don't fall into deep despair without a moment's notice like I do.

While Delly and I were inundated with streaming grateful residents, I caught from the corner of my eye those blond waves. He was sitting comfortably in the center behind a table telling a story as a crowd gathered around him. Flashbacks came to me of lunchtime at school. Except this time, he didn't avoid my eyes. We kept on with the task at hand, greeting, story-telling, but kept returning glances with every opportunity that arose.

Finally, Delly and I get to have an engrossing conversation.

"He looks so much better," she says.

My eyes have been locked, admiring him, for some time now, and I say, "Yes. He does. He's a fighter."

I listen to her stories of how the people felt during the 74th Hunger Games, and what they did to cope in 13, waiting for a dark story to emerge but Delly never made a downturn. It was refreshing to hear nothing but good things, positive point-of-views and I realized I enjoyed her company tremendously.

Then she pulled me up to dance with the others. This was my breaking point. I don't know if it was from the drink that made me less inhibited or of the last memory of Prim and I dancing, but the tears started flowing and I didn't notice it until Delly asked me if I was okay. I told her they were probably tears of joy, because what I felt in my heart wasn't a constricting pain, but a swelling gratitude for the love I was given tonight. Although I miss Prim terribly, I can feel her smile and laughter around me.

"Can I have this dance?" Peeta asks.

I must look a mess! Flushed and flooded with tears, but he gently wipes them away with his thumb as we sway together. I start to feel this wave of anger rising up in me as I ask myself why is he able to touch me in front of a crowd, and when I make the move, he high tails it to Haymitch's. But then I hold back allowing myself to rationalize that I'm not making the move. He doesn't have to question his intentions, and it starts to work wonderfully for me. He's holding me in his arms, he's caressing my face. This was definitely nice and easy.

_Present Day: Hospital room._

"Careful. Nice and easy, now." I say as I slowly transfer my son over to his rejuvenated father, who was holding out his hands as soon as he unlatched from me. I say it for my sake, feeling very sore and raw inside and out.

He gives me a look that signals its a subject I shouldn't tread into. He snuggles back against the pillow beside me, and reminds me, "The radical therapy was anything but nice and easy."

"So is childbirth," I say, attempting to put a smile on my face, but wince instead from the throbbing pain shooting up inside me. In mid-spasm, I turn to meet his glance, and we both voice in agreement, remembering the sweet torture we both underwent with….

"Radical therapy."

_Next chapter: The two teens must undergo radical therapy before they can begin to live ordinary young adult lives. _


	5. Remember Every Bit of Happiness

5 Remember Every Bit of Happiness

I walked straight for Haymitch's house early the next morning before heading out to do my daily morning trek in the woods. Delly and a few of her friends were so nice to escort me back to my house last night, that I had forgotten to drop off the wine bottle Haymitch had asked me to fetch. The barkeeper gave it to me for free after I asked where I could get one since many of the stores only sold liquor which was astronomically cheaper than wine. I left Haymitch's money as tip.

The last I saw of Peeta last night was when he was in a serious conversation with Thom. That moment reminded me of my father when I'd accompany him to the hob to trade. He had that same look on his face. He did more than just do business there, he listened to their concerns. I may have been too young to recall exactly what he did for them, but on the day of the reaping, the District 12 resident's courageous salute more than convinced me that he did more than listen to their concerns. He maybe even helped some of them stave off starvation.

I let them be, reassuring myself that no conversation will ever be darker, or more life-threatening than any discussion that took place in those dreadful days of District 12 under the Capitol's rule.

As I stepped off from dancing, I spotted Thom, by himself, looking more distraught. I was making my way towards him when Delly jumped right at me, "Hey Katniss!"

She looped her arms around mine and veered me away from Thom. I tried to resist ever so gently, but she says, "Peeta says I should take you home. The crowd is getting wilder by the minute, and he wanted us to make sure you're safe."

I laugh, more like scoff. Did he forget that I was once placed in the middle of the most unsafest place on Earth and survived it against all odds? I just ask, "So where is he?" A tinge of jealousy emerged, bringing color to my cheeks, from the thought of Peeta possibly also wanting to meet other people, other girls to be exact, and he's using his Town people friends to get rid of me. However, Delly's answer distracts me, and a couple more people join her to escort me home.

"He's with the older men."

"I hope they get a handle on him," one person in the group adds.

The whole group glares at the guy, and before I could ask him to elaborate, Delly says something that seems to release the tension between her and her friends.

"Yes. There are many things the Capitol has done to us, but Peeta has always thought of the welfare of others. He won't let matters get worst. Not if he can help it."

My head was spinning, literally. I couldn't quite grasp what she was saying. But I had to say something to join in on Peeta's defense, feeling that my words would be the official validation on his character.

"Yes, it's because he has….you know…..he has a way with words." And I certainly just proved I didn't.

I bounce up Haymitch's steps and knock on his door. I was going to leave the bottle of wine on his porch table, but I wanted to let him know that by listening to his advice I had awakened to a familiar feeling of happiness I had felt only once before in the arena. I'm sure it would make his day knowing I finally listened to advice without putting up a fight.

He was surprisingly quick to answer the door, but not surprised to see me. As he stepped out, I caught a glimpse of Peeta in Haymitch's living room on the telephone.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"What happened last night?" Haymitch asks, scratching the stubbles on his face.

"Is Peeta okay?" I ask, about to walk past him, but he holds my arm and sits me down in front of him.

"He's fine. Now. He's talking to Dr. Aurelius." Haymitch sighs. On top of nursing a hangover, his mind seems to be preoccupied, trying to figure something out.

"About what? Haymitch! About what?" I ask with alarm.

He raises his hand gesturing me to calm down, but before I begin to protest, he says,

"They brought him here last night, not knowing what to do. It's like the rescue at District 13 all over again. Are you sure nothing happened, Katniss?" The puzzled look on my face, compelled him to elaborate, "Between you two?"

"We just danced together….I did exactly what you said. We were having fun. I came here to tell you that. I took your advice and I thought everything went well. Did he say his flashbacks have something to do with us again?"

Then I see a light flicker in Haymitch's eyes. "No, but it's obvious, and I think him not wanting to admit it is what's causing this."

Just then the door creaks open and it's Peeta. Haymitch steps in front of me, instinctively knowing I was about to run up to Peeta and wrap my arms around him after seeing him look so beaten. Instead he had us sit in separate chairs in his living room. Despite Haymitch's living space always in a state of chaos, his furniture had always maintained an upright position. That is, until today. When he propped one chair up, I noticed how frayed the arm rests were. It looked like something Buttercup would do if he were 5 times bigger than his current size.

Peeta apologizes to Haymitch. "I'm sorry about that. I'll have it replaced with mine. Let me do this one." He practically turns over a couch by himself, sets it upright and plops himself on it. I can only imagine how rough it must've been for the guys last night, just looking at the massacre on the furniture. If it wasn't for that drink last night, I wouldn't have been easily coaxed by Delly and friends. I wondered if I would've had a flashback of my own if I had stayed and witnessed his relapse, being in the arena again, doing whatever it would take to save Peeta from the clutches of those older men or even from his hijacked mind. I wonder if they all figured that I would respond as expected and that's why they had me towed all the way back to Victor's Village.

"So what's the doctor's orders?" Haymitch asks.

His arm is over his eyes when he answers, "He's upping my meds. Sending a new and improve serum via hovercraft."

"You going to sign for that bill? That kind of lightning speed delivery is not what you call cheap." Haymitch points out.

"Should I join you, then? Would turning to the bottle cost less?" Peeta retorts, but Haymitch continues to probe. "Did you tell him the reason you're getting all worked up?"

"He knows." Peeta yawns.

"Knows what?" I quietly ask.

He turns to me, pleasantly surprised to be reminded that I have been there. By the way his smile lingered, and by what he said, I assume he already took the extra dosage.

"You always seem to be in my thoughts. Especially the ones that are not real. I try to fight them off , but it's getting stronger."

"Last night. Us dancing was real." I remind him.

"I know. You didn't do it because you wanted to. You did it because everyone was watching," He answers, looking straight up at the ceiling, his eyes getting heavier by the second. Haymitch and I look at each other and all I could say was what I had intended all along to come there to say,

"It was the first time I had fun in a long time."

He turns to me, trying to focus, but I can see he's trying to come back to reality. His eyes have lost the cloudiness and he replies, "Me too."

Then all too soon, his smile turns into a frown, and he begins to rub his temples with increasing pressure—the clouded look in his eyes—returning.

"Besides drugging you up, did Dr. Aurelius have other suggestions?" Haymitch asks.

"If I don't get better in a week, then I go back. I told him I don't want to go back to the Capitol, and I told him I don't want him to treat me anymore. He's from there, you know?" Peeta yawns and quickly drifts into sleep.

Before the excruciatingly long one week was up, Peeta's health improved as long as I remained at a distance, which Haymitch adamantly suggested. He was able to relay to me that Peeta didn't remember that day on his couch and all the things he said, which we were both relieved to hear. We hoped this would be the last of the relapse, but in the meantime, the increased dosage helped him function normally again, and I too was gradually increasing my presence around him.

On one sunny, sweet smelling afternoon, Peeta gave me the most delightful surprise. I called him over to the couch where I was sitting after I had finished my write up for the drawing he made of us dancing. He leaned over the back of the couch and started reading as I held the book by my shoulder.

"Celebrating the Rebuilding Work," He reads.

And I add in, "This was the night I first felt happy to be home." I turned to him and found his face incredibly close to mine, but then again, I still held the book up by my shoulder.

"Why don't you write that? It's important we remember every bit of happiness."

He smiles at me and as I nod in agreement, he places a gentle kiss on my cheeks. I'm tickled by this, letting out a laugh. He laughs too, but he already has straightened up, turned around and faithfully returned to the baking sweet rolls.

That one little kiss drove me to think of all sorts of things to do to get more of it. I felt like a child doing extra homework for the promise of a sweet treat, except I was wanting that sweet treat every day, every hour, everytime I was near Peeta. It didn't help that he would sometimes smell like melted butter and cinnamon.

_To be continued….. We'll find out just how far the development of Katniss' and Peeta's relationship will get. Will there be another relapse? Not if Haymitch can help it. Please review. _


End file.
